


The Eradicator

by mific



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Bodice-Ripper, Crack, Fanfiction, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 10:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: There was a muffled boom and Bucky jumped back as flames and dark smoke poured from the cellar door. "That'll eradicate it, mark my words," he said with considerable satisfaction.





	The Eradicator

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daphneblithe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphneblithe/gifts).



> Written for International Fanworks day over at the [!Stucky Fanworks](https://fandom.stopthatimp.net/chanview?f=&hash=cgoh-lncc24dX0Mv-JFzLFXYVLEf_FbhaIaCf7FAXpRlcrij4Xc7rkd6YBFrxJQsREAyxIC9B1pMnJxf-zpzdw) comm set up by daphneblithe over on Hubzilla. This got completely away on me! I used a prompt generator that combines two unlikely situations/styles. The prompt was: "Dealing with an Infestation of Vermin – in the Style of Jane Austen". And then of course it had to be Stucky as well. (Also, it kept wanting to be a bodice-ripper).

 

Young Mr Steven (for so he was known, although in truth he often felt near as old as time itself) gazed in dismay at the tangle of vicious red hydra vines infesting the cellar.  
  
Colonel Fury and Miss Hill were due at Stark Manor on the morrow and he had promised Lord Stark to deal with the infestation before their arrival. He had thought the task accomplished – all traces of the foul nest destroyed – but they had multiplied overnight and were threatening Lord Stark's wine collection.  
  
Steven sighed. There was no help for it – he must call an eradicator. He sent one of the grooms to the village, to see if any were to be found.  
  
Luncheon was an awkward meal, at which Steven kept his head down and prayed Lord Stark would not ask him about his progress in the cellar. It was difficult being the ward of so powerful a society figure, for all that his fiancee Miss Potts was the essence of kindness and common sense. Luckily, she was in town arranging a gala ball, else he would surely have been discovered – she missed very little. Lord Stark, on the contrary, was oblivious, talking non-stop about his latest invention, some mechanical thing – Steven could not concentrate on the details, merely nodding at suitable intervals.  
  
The groom returned after the meal with the infestation expert riding pillion, thankfully after Lord Stark had retired to his workroom, from which loud bangs and hammering emanated.  
  
The eradicator was a dark-haired man, dressed all in black like an undertaker but bearing no resemblance to any member of that profession. He had a muscular form and determined frown, with unkempt dark hair falling into his eyes, from which he shot intense glances at Steven. Steven felt his heart beat a little faster.  
  
"I am most grateful to you for coming so quickly," Steven said, standing as tall as he could – he was smaller than most and uncomfortably conscious of it. Lord Stark's physician Dr Banner believed he had suffered from malnutrition when young. Steven had no recollection of that, nor of anything before being discovered near frozen in an ice-covered pond, on the outskirts of the Stark lands in the depths of winter. It was generally thought to be Miss Potts' tender mercies that had prevailed on Lord Stark, but Steven knew Stark had a soft heart, for all his attempts to act as though it were cased in steel. "I am Steven – er, Mr Steven Rogers." He blushed at his slip into informality.  
  
"Barnes," the man said. "...James Barnes." He seemed tense and lacking in social graces. Steven warmed to him immediately. "It's a hydra?"  
  
"Indeed, sir," Steven said, leading the way to the cellar door. "I have never seen one so large. I cut the vines away yesterday, but–"  
  
Barnes shook his head, almost angry. "That never suffices. They grow back twofold, often tenfold."  
  
"So I have discovered." Steven shrugged apologetically, pausing at the foot of the cellar steps, well back from the unpleasant-looking knot of red vines. He peered anxiously at Barnes, who was staring fixedly at the infestation. "Can you deal with it?"  
  
"Fire's what we need," Barnes said. "Burn it out." He took a sack from his shoulder and set it down, taking out a glass bottle stoppered with rags. "Paraffin," he explained, kneeling and rummaging in the sack, presumably for a flint.  
  
"But the wine!" Steven put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Lord Stark collects rare vintages. His collection is priceless!"  
  
"Does he drink it?" Barnes asked, looking up with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Well..." Steven paused, nonplussed. "A little at dinner." He raised his hands. "I know nothing about wine, only that it is valuable."  
  
"Very likely corked," Barnes said wryly. "He'll never miss it."  
  
Steven found himself grinning, but however oddly familiar Barnes seemed, he must remember his responsibilities. He schooled his face to a more serious demeanor. "I will move the nearer bottles," he said, stepping forward.  
  
Barnes, who had been crouched over the flint and paraffin, jerked around, reaching for him. "Don't touch it!"  
  
He was too late. Steven was instantly enmeshed in the coiling red vines, one tightening alarmingly around his throat. He gasped for breath as though in the throes of an asthmatic attack.  
  
A moment later Barnes was there, slashing at the hydra's limbs and sawing at the coil wrapped around Steven's windpipe. It parted at last, and Steven felt himself being pulled roughly to safety.  
  
They tumbled to the dusty floor, Barnes's knife falling to the flagstones and bouncing away. Steven found himself on top of Barnes, in a most compromising position. His cheeks colored and he cursed his fair complexion.  
  
"I do apologize–" he said hoarsely, clambering up and offering Barnes a hand.  
  
"Tis not the first time we've played rough and tumble," Barnes said, half smiling, eyeing him. Steven's head jerked up as he registered Barnes's words.  
  
"Do you know me, sir?" he demanded, staring hotly at Barnes.  
  
"You're my friend." Barnes said with a shrug. "You don't remember me, Stevie?"  
  
"I... I recall nothing, before the ice." Steven shook his head helplessly. "Nothing at all."  
  
"Not even this?" Barnes pulled Steven in, kissing him fiercely. Steve felt memories flood back at the long-lost, familiar press of lips, at Barnes's heat and warmth, his taste.  
  
"Bucky?" Steve clutched at him, reeling from the flood of memories. Growing up in a part of the city so poor it was well nigh a slum, scraping farthings selling drawings to buy medicine for his mother. She'd died anyway, he remembered with a lancing stab of pain. Bucky had been Steve's constant companion, fighting ruffians and street-bullies – Steve had started half the fights, he thought ruefully.  
  
"Aye, it's me," Bucky said, cuffing him about the ear and pulling him back up the cellar steps.  
  
"But, but you died," Steve said, stricken. "You disappeared and never returned, and Ma died and I could not..." He turned his face into Bucky's rough shoulder and held on, tears filling his eyes.  
  
Bucky held him tight. "Press ganged," he said, "and lost an arm." He rapped on his left side and the limb made a dull wooden sound. "Then I was sold as a slave. It took years to free myself." He paused, his hand cupping Steve's head, stroking his hair. "Then another age to track you down and wait for a chance to get in here and see you. What in damnation are you doing here with a posh cove like Stark?"  
  
Steve shrugged. "I was lost, nearly dead. I thought you were dead too – everyone I knew had gone. I think...I didn't want to remember." He sighed. "Lord Stark's been generous. I owe him a lot."  
  
"D'you think he'll forgive you for blowing up his wine cellar?" Bucky asked. He did not wait for an answer, pushing Steve out the door into the courtyard and throwing the smoldering bottle back down the steps. There was a muffled boom and Bucky jumped back as flames and dark smoke poured from the cellar door. "That'll eradicate it, mark my words," he said with considerable satisfaction.  
  
Steve groaned. They'd be for it now – it was just as he remembered from childhood.  
  
"Mr Rogers!" shouted Lord Stark, leaning out an upstairs window. "What in hell's name is going on with my wine cellar!"  
  
Steve looked up, shading his eyes with one hand. "The hydra infestation was too severe, sir," he called. "It threatened the foundations of the manor." He gestured at Bucky. "Mr Barnes is an expert, and he deemed it the most prudent course."  
  
Lord Stark's eyes narrowed with interest. "You know explosives?"  
  
Bucky nodded. "Aye, I've made a study of them."  
  
"I am most sorry about the wine," Steve said, "but we–"  
  
Stark waved it away. "Undrinkable, in the main. A small price to pay." He turned back into the room. "Jarvis? Jarvis! Ah, there you are. Bring tea. And coffee." He turned back and gestured impatiently at Steve and Bucky. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come up and we'll talk. I've a mind to have an explosives expert in my employ."  
  
"Is he always like this?" Bucky asked, as they mounted the front steps.  
  
"Indeed," Steve said. "He collects things, and people. He collected me, and now he's set his sights on you."  
  
"I'll not sleep in the stables," Bucky warned.  
  
"You'll sleep in my apartments," Steve said firmly. "I'm painting the house." Bucky shot him a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised. "The inside," Steve said. "Murals, ceilings, every species of curlicue."  
  
"I thought you were set to be another Turner? Or a Constable?" Bucky asked.  
  
"I do my own work as well," Steve said, lifting his chin. "And portraits. I've a mind to paint you."  
  
Bucky nodded, as Jarvis ushered them into Lord Stark's sitting room. "I'd make a pretty picture."  
  
"Very dashing," Steve agreed, coloring again. The pose in his mind was not fit for public showing.  
  
Bucky grinned, and strode forward to meet Lord Stark.  


   
~ the end ~

 


End file.
